


the curse it is cast

by elegantstupidity



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27144032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantstupidity/pseuds/elegantstupidity
Summary: Passing up on filming a vampire den on Halloween would be a mistake, right?Wrong.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2020





	the curse it is cast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cookinguptales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookinguptales/gifts).



> Title from "The Times They Are A Changin'" by Bob Dylan

“I know we don’t usually film on Thursdays, but I figured we’d make an exception this week.”

Guillermo nodded along, more intent on lighting candles—well, turning on the LED replacements he’d gotten after last year’s trip to the Vampiric Council; they really did cut down on costs and accidental house fires—than really listening. “I’ll have to check with my master and the others, but that will probably be fine. Is this to make up for that day you couldn’t come last week?”

The fact that the crew had missed a day of filming last week had more to do with the house's unexpected infestation of imps, which would have made for some excellent footage if it weren't for the fact that imps categorically refused to wear pants and the production just didn't have the budget to blur out that many tiny dicks, than a crew scheduling conflict. As Guillermo definitely knew, having had to learn on the fly if commercial insecticide worked on imps. (It mostly got the little assholes some version of imp-drunk, resulting in largely ineffective mischief and an unholy mess to clean up.) 

“Well, that, and it is Halloween—“

There was a ringing clatter as two, likely authentic, Baroque candelabra knocked into one another, Guillermo fumbling to catch them and only sending the candles scattering. Even once everything was upright and back in its place, he checked over his shoulder nervously. The nerves didn't abate any when no one came to investigate or possibly scold him for making such a racket with the antiques. 

"Have you talked to anyone else about this yet?" he asked, not even bothering to mask the thrum of terror in his voice. 

"Uh, no?"

"Good, good," Guillermo said, blowing out a long, relieved breath. "Maybe don't mention it to anyone, then? I'll check, but you guys might want to plan on steering clear of the house on—" catching himself, he nearly choked and checked over his shoulder again "—that day."

Nodding as definitively as anyone on the crew had ever seen from the familiar, Guillermo moved off along the hallway, flicking switches and leaving a trail of flickering LED lights in his wake.

"So, uh," said Troy, the cameraman, scratching at his cheek, "what the hell was that about?"

"No clue. Guess we better find out."

* * *

“—all just a bastardization of the real thing, I say! I mean, what kind of imbecile would use pumpkins—“

At his side, Nadja gave Laszlo’s hand a supportive pat even as she rolled her eyes and slumped against the back of the loveseat in a rustle of stiff skirts and creaking boning. As it had for the past twenty minutes, her husband’s tirade continued unabated.

“—when they could have a turnip? Any asshole in existence can stab a pumpkin a few times and come out with one of those tacky little faces—as if a demon's spirit could be captured by any simple child—but there is true artistry in carving out a ghoulish visage on a turnip.”

“Yes, it takes delicacy, my love,” Nadja said, clearly having heard this all before and wishing she didn’t have to hear it again.

“Fucking delicacy!”

Before he could launch into a new point, though perhaps saying that any of Laszlo's many thoughts on the horrific (and not in the fun way) transformation of the cherished tradition of All Hallow's Eve had so much as a point would be generous in the extreme, a chill descended over everyone, giving them all just a moment to dread what was about to happen.

"The pumpkins again?" Standing in the doorway to the fancy room like he could've just happened by or been standing there silently for the past half hour, was Colin Robinson. "Any new material this year?"

Behind Laszlo's shoulder, where he couldn't see her, Nadja shook her head.

"I say! You would diminish my studied and reasoned objections to this fallacious and corrupted 'Halloween' into mere material for your feeding?" blustered Laszlo, fully prepared to dive back into his well-practiced dissertation.

"Oh, yeah," said Colin, cutting through that building ire with complete ease. "Last year, I used your tight forty-five on the travesty of trick or treating and always got a great feed. People really hated when I'd ask why we couldn't go back to giving children flagons of ale."

Laszlo's wordless indignation, his usual eloquence dissolving into nearly incoherent sputtering about candy rotting out the meaning of the festival as surely as teeth, clearly pleased him, Colin's eyes flashing that unnerving blue before he went in for the kill.

The doorway now clear and Laszlo's attention fully diverted, the documentary crew took their chance and made a quick getaway.

Out in the foyer, cameraman and producer could only stare at one another in shell-shocked silence. Then, as one, some innate sense made them turn to the corner where Guillermo was sitting in his "room." The familiar might be too polite to say it aloud, but the tilt of his head along with the raised eyebrow spoke all on their own.

Yeah, he definitely told them so. And next time, they would actually listen.


End file.
